


The Four Seasons

by MohnblumenKind



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Ancient History, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Roman Myths, Violence, War, between the lines, some M/M, they are all dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26586613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MohnblumenKind/pseuds/MohnblumenKind
Summary: Carthage stood in the midst of the ashes and destruction and laughed cruelly, his head held high, a wooden spear in his hands. He looked like Mars, the god of war, with the face of Venus and Rome wondered, not for the first time, whether the gods had send one of their sons to haunt him.Rome remembers the immortals he fought, loved, and feared.
Relationships: Ancient Egypt/Rome (Hetalia), Ancient Greece/Rome (Hetalia), Carthage & Rome (Hetalia), Germania & Rome (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	The Four Seasons

**Author's Note:**

> Historic background at the end of the fic.

Carthage had been the beginning. Or had he been the end?

  


* * *

  


Rome's first memories were the seven hills where he grew up. Long ago, they had been soft hills on which various villages formed, steadily growing and spreading into the surrounding land. The forests and green meadows vanished, first to farmland, then to small suburbs, and in the end to large villas and narrow streets made from cobblestone.  
Growing suited him, and the more he grew, the more attention he got from the humans. More land meant more power and his kind started noticing him, too. Fighting them meant it was either them or him, and he didn’t really think much about it. He always won and some of his enemies perished while others bowed to his mighty power and started to stick around. He let them if they paid their tributes.  
Yet, none of them had been of any importance to him, until he met Carthage.  
  
One day, he visited a Sicilian port. Sicily was his favorite neighbor, she had the same elegant movements as her mother and he usually liked to watch her from afar – he feared sailing, the deep, wet blue of the ocean harbored unknown dangers in his opinion. He was fine fighting with beasts and men, even defying fire, but neither man nor immortals – in his opinion – were made to be out at the sea or in a storm, subjugated to Jupiter’s wrath and Neptune’s viciousness. Yet, this time, he had decided to pay Sicily a visit, but instead of meeting her – or her beautiful mother – he met _him_. Rome sensed one of his kind immediately, so he turned and saw how the foreign immortal stepped off a ship with quick strides. The stranger made his way over the pier while he gestured widely to organize the goods. The harbor bustled with life all around him and he seemed to be completely in his element.  
  
“Hello there,” Rome called out.  
  
The head of the foreigner snapped around, the eyes narrowed. But within seconds, his attention was captured by a human sailor disembarking. In a foreign language to Rome, the newly arrived immortal barked orders and directed his people towards the Sicilian city center.  
Before he could turn away and follow them, Rome stepped onto the pier and blocked his way.  
  
“Salve!” he said with emphasis. The other man stopped abruptly and looked him up and down. Rome noticed his tanned skin that showed an upcoming sunburn on his cheeks and nose, probably due to the sun at sea.  
  
“Hmm?” came the reply.  
  
Rome hesitated for a moment. He had not expected the rudeness that swelled from the other like waves in the ocean.  
  
“Well, I was up for a proper greeting. It’s not an everyday occurrence to meet someone of our kind.” Rome mentally called out to Minerva for help since his choice of words and tone did waver for a second.  
The look he received clearly showed how less the other cared for proper greetings or official announcements.  
Rome was baffled. Usually others of his kind either tried to befriend him or fight him – but total indifference was not something that was commonly directed at him. Before he could form a proper response like scolding the other in the name of Jupiter for his disrespect, the impolite foreigner started to talk for the first time. His melodic voice hit the Greek words slightly wrong, deforming the pronunciation to fit a foreign tongue.  
  
“Look, I get you having a stick up your ass and all that, but I’m just here with my goods for trade, so step aside.”  
  
Rome was too perplexed to react properly, so he stepped aside, and the – still nameless – immortal continued his way down the pier. Way later Rome would learn his name when Punic warships sailed along his border, their sails wide like wings, carried by Neptune’s grace.  
  
Carthage had always been like this: Proud, ignorant, obnoxious, and fascinating to Rome.  
  
Sicily was their start – unimportant quarrels over Sicily and her harbors turned into fights. They finally turned into war, over and over again. The fact that their strength equaled each other was both frightening and thrilling to Rome. Their lust for battle mixed with their lust for flesh and lusting after something unknown turned into lusting after someone specifically.

  


* * *

  


Greece had been Rome’s first and only wife. She was loved by Neptune as Carthage was but yet was so unlike him. Rome was not made to be a married man anyway, he had never planned to be one, so it had almost been like an accident.  
  
It happened in Corinth at the Isthmian Games. Greece and Rome were drunk on victory. She laid in his arms, her graceful body leaning into him, one hand on his thigh, the other holding a mug with wine. They had battled Macedonia together and Rome could not believe how Greece had changed from a warrior goddess covered in the blood of their enemies to the most beautiful muse adorned with bronze bracelets and white linen within mere hours. The games or maybe Rome’s amused rambling elicited her laughter and it sounded like spring in his ears. Laughing, she shook her head and some wisps of the brown waves of hair fell softly on her shoulders, escaping the bun. Rome thought she was the most beautiful being in the world.  
“Will you marry me?” It was an impulse, he had not planned to ask her – or anyone ever.  
She laughed again and then her kind, wise eyes locked with his.  
“Yes”, she simply said.  
He had not known that wooing an immortal would be that easy and that much fulfilling. It would have spared himself and Carthage a lot of pain.  
  
He worshiped her. He had always looked up to her because of her art, her philosophy, her language, her daughters and sons. And he continued to do so every day in their marriage.  
And he did so, even after she was gone.  
  
It started with a cold. She caught it in the first days of the new year – early in Martius when Rome counted his legions and bonded them to defy his enemies. Even though she was cured quickly, she grew weaker and weaker. Her already pale skin lost all remaining color. Soon, her bones were too fragile to move her elegant body, so she stayed inside most of the time. Until one day, Rome was met with empty white sheets. He tried to muffle his screams in them.  
  
She was the only one he ever cried for.

  


* * *

  


He cried out in frustration and anger when his troops dissolved in panic, fear in their eyes. He would not yield and definitely not flee, in the name of Jupiter.  
  
But Mars, the god of war, seemingly hadn’t liked the bull Rome had sacrificed before the battle, so he had sided with Carthage instead. Or with the monsters and demons Carthage had summoned on Rome’s native land. Rome had thought Carthage’s ships and sailing skills were impressive, but he could not have guessed how terrifying his army was on land. Carthage rode a fucking elephant to battle, a giant monster with massive size and weight and strength that would have made Atlas pale with envy. Like a thunderstorm, several beasts were raging across the fields towards the Roman army and the lines broke even before contact. The troops were bolting, the horses took fright at the sight and sound of the incoming attack. Infantry and cavalry were a mess within seconds, before the battle had even started.  
  
“Lances down! Brace for impact!” Rome ordered, trying to calm his prancing horse.  
  
But what good where lances against monsters made of rock?  
  
The earth shook and then the incoming elephants met the Roman line. Those few Romans that had remained steady and loyal in the face of such monstrosities were trampled under the feet of the elephants or gored by their tusks. The armor of the Roman soldiers broke like made of wax. The elephants snatched the fleeing, stumbling men with their trunks, squeezing them like playthings, tossing them around or smashing them to the ground like puppets made of straw.  
  
Lances always worked against horses, but Rome didn’t need to be a genius in battle tactics to realize that war elephants were not at all like horses. Because horses were gentle and tame – even if you trained them for war – and raging elephants were like a force of nature, like mountains crashing above your head.  
  
“Where are your gods now, Rome?” Carthage called out gleefully, balancing on top of his war elephant.  
  
Rome didn’t answer and watched in horror as the elephants ripped apart his formations and killed his soldiers. The Romans stumbled and cried and they fled. And the last thing Rome remembered was his horse rearing up and the dull pain when he hit the ground. And then the elephant rose above him.

  


* * *

  


Years later, there was Egypt, and her skin was kissed by the sun. He loved how her dark thighs moved against his white ones when they had sex, or how she panted and screamed while she rode him.  
She had fire in her mind and smelled like heat and eternal summer.  
  
On the Ides of Iulius – the now freshly renamed month Quintilis – she stormed into the room where he and his generals drunk. The behavior of some of the Roman soldiers had enraged her, she demanded more respect as an immortal and a goddess. Her scene elicited well-mannered laughter by his generals, calling her hysterical, so she smashed the carafes with wine. She stood amidst the shards, screaming at them in Greek, Latin, and Demotic, with colorful insults that would have a stableboy running head over heels and even let his generals go silent – they were well known to Mars roaring with a battle cry and all of them had faced war elephants head-on without batting an eye. The red wine soaked into her soft sandals with delicate golden filaments. It reminded Rome of blood, spilled by Isis as a sacrifice to Osiris.  
  
Breathing hard, Egypt stood over Rome while he laid in his triclinium and she looked down on him with fury in her eyes.  
At this very moment, he knew she would laugh at his grave and love to look down at his dead body as much as she loved looking down at him while riding him with pleasure. He knew with a mystic clarity that usually was reserved for oracles, that only one of them would survive this relationship.  
But he didn’t end it as he should. Venus was a wicked goddess, she could give military victory or sexual success and if she had sent her son Cupid to capture someone, she would not back down. So Rome was lost. Egypt was too enigmatic and captivating, even though he knew they would claw at each other with lust and fury because that was what Venus had in mind.  
  
The last time he saw Egypt was the morning before Alexandria burned. With the fire and ash, she vanished in the wads of smoke.  
  
He remembered his heart burning with grief.

  


* * *

  


The capitol, his heart, was burning. Carthage stood amid the ashes and destruction and laughed cruelly, his head held high, a wooden spear in his hands. He looked like Mars, the god of war, with the face of Venus and Rome wondered, not for the first time, whether the gods had sent one of their sons to haunt him.  
  
But maybe it hadn’t been Carthage and Rome remembered wrong?  
  
He recalled Germania standing where the temples of his proud heart had been, where the center of the civilized world was placed. But Germania never laughed. He was silent like a marble statue, his broad shoulders erect, a silver sword in his fist, his steel-blue eyes directed at Rome, motionless and without a sound, while his men pillaged the ancient city.  
  
Germania was quiet as the winter. Like the time when snow covered the earth and took all the sounds with it beneath its cold blanket. You somehow forgot how the world sounded.  
The northerner was all about dark forests, cold wells, impenetrable thicket, and old oaks that were holy without apparent reason to Rome. But Germania insisted that these trees were older than humankind and the immortals themselves and that they were haunted by spirits mightier than man.  
  
Germania didn’t talk much – at least not with Rome – but he showed what he thought. After winning their battle, he hanged Rome’s soldiers in the holy oaks one by one, all by himself.

  


* * *

  


Carthage stood in the ashes. He was laughing at Rome, at his bleeding heart, at his fallen empire, and at his broken body.  
  
Or was it the other way around?  
  
Rome remembered laughing, covered in blood, while the broken body of Carthage laid beneath him.  
  
Ash fell like leaves in autumn witnessing the end of an era. The spear was still in Carthage’s torso – Rome had jabbed it there with all his strength – and the injured immortal had gripped it with one hand. The other hand laid useless at his side. His breaths came quick and shallow, clearly with pain. Rome observed his nemesis, then, he knelt next to him. The sudden urge to possess and protect fought with his lust for blood and destruction.  
  
But Carthage was no one to be possessed.  
  
Rome remembered cradling him in his arms while raising his voice, banning all Punic citizens from the city, cursing the land with the help of his mighty gods. His brave and loyal Roman soldiers started to raze the city walls while he watched how the light left Carthage’s golden eyes.  
  
Carthage was the first and only immortal he saw dying.  
  
Carthage’s end had been Rome’s beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Actually, these stories are a bit mixed up. The timeline:  
>  **Carthage & Rome**: It’s about the three Punic Wars between 264 and 146 BC. In 146 BC Carthage was destroyed completely and the area became a Roman province.  
>  **Greece & Rome**: The engagement is in 196 BC and her vanishing might be some time after 146 BC when Corinth was destroyed and the Greek mainland became a Roman province.  
>  **Egypt & Rome**: Egypt at this time was a Greek monarchy (Hellenistic era) and the scenes are shortly before and in 30 BC, when Egypt became a Roman province, too.  
>  **Germania & Rome**: Hanged Romans was around 9 BC and German tribes were sacking Rome in the 5th century a couple of times.  
>   
>   
> immortal/his kind: from the historic point of view, the concept of nations is highly problematic and actually not reliable at all. That makes it quite complicated to write a historic correct fic with these personifications. You might have noticed, I used “immortal” and “his/our/their kind” instead of “nation” or “country” because the concept of nations was invented around the 19th century. So here, they are personifications of cities or political structures at best, so I opted for some mysterious immortal creature.  
>   
> Rome: According to legend, Rome was founded 753 BC by Romulus on the “seven hills”, but historic research shows that the city is older and grew from various houses into a larger city. Romans loved Greek culture, so the nobility was able to speak Greek fluently, and thus is Rome as a personification, too. So all of the immortals are speaking Greek with each other, except for Germania, who doesn’t speak at all. (Greek and Egypt are both Helenistic states with a Greek monarchy and nobility and Carthage had some kind of affair with Greek in Sicily before meeting Rome).  
>   
> Carthage: Carthage was a maritime power, and Rome had to copy the superior Punic ships to stand a chance against him in a war. There were three Punic Wars, and although Carthage lost all, for Rome each of them had been a trauma. And Carthage (and to some degree Greece and Egypt) used war elephants but Rome eventually found out how to fight them. In 146 BC Carthage was wiped off the map by Rome and all its citizens sold into slavery to effectively kill the Punic culture and hence Carthage is (in my headcanon) the only personification to this day that died – very cruelly and painfully – in battle.  
>   
> Greece: The engagement of Rome and Ancient Greece took place at the Isthmian Games in 196 BC and it’s a hint to Flamininus’ famous declaration of freedom. The Isthmian Games were Panhelenic games (games and competitions for all Greek city states like the Olympic Games). Sicily is Greece’s daughter here (and probably Carthage’s, too).  
>   
> Egypt: Ancient Egypt speaks Greek, Latin, and Demotic. Demotic is a variation of her own language, Greek is what her nobility spoke for centuries and she learned Latin (at least the fancy insults) for Rome. Alexandria was burning in 30 BC due to the Romans, so that’s where I decided to let Egypt vanish (or die or ascend to heaven, whatever the personifications in Hetalia are doing at the end of their lives.) After that, Egypt was incorporated into Rome and became a province.  
>   
> Germania: It’s not much known of Germania (like Carthage), we only have Roman sources because they had no written language. Anyway, he liked oaks. And hanging Roman soldiers in it (9 BC after the battle of the Teutoburg Forest).  
>   
> Gods: I mentioned the Roman gods and goddesses Jupiter (godfather and responsible of thunder and lightning), Minerva (goddess of wisdom), Neptune (Jupiter’s brother and god of the seas), Mars (god of war), Venus (god of love, victory and procreation and the affair of Mars), Cupid (their son, the little angle with the bow). There are Egyptian gods like Isis and Osiris (the main gods and married siblings). And Atlas from the Greek mythology (I couldn’t find his Roman equivalent), a titan who shoulders the sky.  
>   
> Roman Calendar: Martius is March and it used to be the first month. Rome started its wars there. The Ides are in the middle of every month and Quintilis/Iulius is July (Caesar renamed the month after himself).  
>   
> Triclinium: It’s some kind of chaise longue Romans used for meals.


End file.
